Roommates
by Mad Eclair
Summary: Hitsugaya Toushiro and Hinamori Momo, two very different collage students with one thing in common. An address! How will they live together and What secrets might they keep? First HitsuHina!
1. My Landlady, The Loony

Chapter One

When I was first writing this, I planned on making it another cliché boy saves girl, girl abuse victim, but I do way too much of that, so I thought I'd try out a normal story. Please review and tell me what y'all think.

~MadÉclair

**Chapter One**

**"My Landlady, the Loony"**

Hinamori Momo, age 21, is finally moving out. This scholarship was changing her life. She was getting closer to her dream, and farther away from the things that held her back.

Though she couldn't afford to stay in the dormitories the school had, she could still find a nice apartment close by to rent. She had decided on an old 17th century home that was two stories high, and at least two miles away from any neighbors that may disturb her concentration.

Today was the day she signed the lease. She was meeting her landlady there, and then the whole attic would be hers to live in. She had been told that there was one other tenant living just below her, Shiro-chan the landlady had told her, Momo hoped that they would get along, but she was just relived to have a female roommate.

As Momo pulled up to the property she peered over the dash at the land. It was a huge house, the yard was fair and the tall grass parted in a narrow path from the road to the front step. It was beautiful, perfect in fact.

"Ah! Hinamori-kun!" an elderly woman in her late sixties waved her over from the expansive front yard, her thin white hair tangled beneath the oversized sunhat she wore, and her pale and boney legs appearing shorter under her knee length sundress. "This lady sure does know how to dress for the summer heat," Momo mumbled to herself as she rolled down the window to her compact little Prius to shout a brief greeting.

This would be over soon, and then she could get right to business. Stumbling out of her car, she shaded her eyes from the sun reflecting off her metallic silver paint job. Momo hurried to cross the lawn in her converse and cursed her decision to where her long jeans today. Even with her soft pink tank top welcoming the wind to her skin, it was a million degrees out and the sun beat down white hot and mercilessly on her skin.

"Mrs.….. Um, I'm sorry?" she began, her voice soft, then realizing that they had never been introduced.

"Lee, dear, but please do call me Heaven." The older woman enthused as her scraggly voice alerted Momo to a history of smoking.

Momo's second thought was "Heaven…Lee…. Heavenly... What an odd name."

"Would you mind if I called you Haven?" she asked almost shyly.

"But of course, dear-y! Now come right inside and we can have a nice cup of Nanny Lee's herbal tea, it will sooth the muscles in your throat for sure," the elderly woman waved her in. Momo had her doubts about the tea.

As they approached the house, she realized just how tall it was. She desperately hoped that the top floor didn't sway in the harsh weather that winter was sure to bring.

Momo was ushered up the creaking steps to the house and pushed with frail hands through the door. "Now come and sit, I'll make that tea and we can have a nice long chat."

Momo sat at the dark wood table in the kitchen hesitantly, she wasn't exactly the chatty type and though Haven seemed nice enough, Momo was not going to brave the woman's tea. She looked for a way out, it came in the form of a large stack of papers.

She reached out and snatched them, she had already read and signed the whole twelve page packet by the time Haven had come back into the room with her "special tea."

"Oh, I've finished all the paper work; I really should start moving my things in if I want to be settled in by Monday."

Haven looked disappointed, but she still pushed the herbal tea towards her.

"Drink that, dear, it will mend that broken heart of yours for sure, it will," she said in a rush.

"And the next time you can tell Nanny Lee all about the boy that broke you, hmm?" before Momo could answer, Haven had already brought the tea pot in and scuttled out of the room like leaving faster would make her want the tea all the more.

"Wait…What?" Was all that came out of her mouth before she composed herself and stood from her seat at the table. Her chair scraped the wooden floors and screamed in protest.

Momo hurried to gather her things from her car, only needing to take three trips to get all her belongings safely to her attic room. She had two suitcases of cloths, and an arm full of painting supplies including brushes, pencils, and an easel.

The narrow stair case that wound up to her room was snug, and Momo wasn't looking foreward to the late night nightmares any more than usual with another obstical in her way to the kitchen.

The room came with a bed that was suspiciously tall, a closet, and a bathroom that connected her room to the hallway before the stairs. After prying open the dust coated windows and doing a quick inspection of the room, she found two bedside tables and an old looking mop and bucket stored in the closet.

She took the hint and pulled her long brown hair back into a pony tail that reached her shoulder blades. Rolling up her pants legs, she sighed and stretched. Momo took the bucket to the small bathroom and filled it, lugging it back and setting it down close to the mop.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she moved all her belongings on top the bed to keep them dry, and then began her work.

Momo grabbed hold of the mop's splintered handle and dunked it into the bucket of tap water. The water turned brown with all the dirt, dusk and soot that coated the end of the mop, and she hauled it back to the bathroom, dumped it, the refilled it.

Instead of going through the long process of cleaning the mop, she swung the bucket back and the water spilled out, swamping her floors and creating a mote beneath her raised bed. After tossing the mop, Momo grabbed one of her old brushes she'd used to scrub down a canvas before painting on it.

She got down to her knees and put all her weight on it, scrubbing until her fingers were red and the floor sparkled. She took an old rag from her bag and rubbed the window clean until it was once again transparent.

When the floor had dries, Momo moved her cloths into the closet, her wardrobe consisting of several hoodies, a few button down shirts, some tank tops, and three pairs of shorts.

Momo was now soaked to the bone with the dirty water her cloths had absorbed from the floor and her hair was damp with her sweat, her face flushed from exhaustion. But she was far from done.

She pushed herself to finish arranging her new living space before she showered, she only had two days before the semester started, and she had to be ready.

She dragged the bed to the side closest the bathroom, leaving five feet between her bed and the door. After wiping them down, she arranged the bedside tables on either side of her bed. With at least ten more feet to the other side of the room, Momo decided she finally had enough space for her easel.

She coated the floors with news papers from decades ago and duct taped them to the floor to keep the steady. In the corner by the window, she had covered at least three feet across, and four feet back. Her easel was placed in the far corner with a blank canvas. She kept three coffee mugs filled with miscellaneous paint brushes and charcoal pencils on a stand nearby with a pallet crusted with dried paint next to them...

She was satisfied with her handy work after she'd finished assembling her desk just under the window, her laptop sitting on it with its comforting blue flashing light telling her it was time to charge it.

That night, Momo decided she would sleep peacefully, soundly, and for the first time in a long time, evade the nightmares that plagued her mind in the latest hours of the night. But her mind had a different plan.

She'd collapsed on her bed with every intention of sleeping straight through the night, but she knew somewhere inside her they would come for her again.

Sometime around 1am, Momo woke in a cold sweat, her bangs plastered to her forehead, and her jeans that she'd neglected to remove stuck to her legs that tangled in the sheets. Again.

Momo sat in her bed for a long while after that, hugging her knees close to her and inhaling the foul scent the dirty water had left on her jeans.

She sighed long and deep, as if to breath in every positive thought that once swirled around the room. Momo climbed out of bed, her nose crinkled as the cold floor stung her feet through her thin socks.

She stumbled slowly over to her closet and fished out a pair of pajama shorts that were just a little too short, not bothering to change out of her tank top, and she shuffled out her door and down the thin stairway and found her way to the kitchen in the dim glow of the night.

Momo usually retreated to the kitchen after a nightmare, sitting on the floor with a glass of water to calm her nerves. But being in a strange house and having no idea where the dishes were, she cupped her hands and sipped the running tap from the kitchen sink.

She slid to the floor, the frozen tile sending an unpleasant wave of chill up her thighs and up her torso and he cabinet's handle digging into her back. Her face scrunched at her uncomfortable arrangement, but stayed anyway, her head lolled off against the cabinet and sleep came mercifully fast.


	2. Hello, I Hate You

So, we just left off with Momo passed out in the kitchen, she still thinks "Shiro-chan" is female, and Toushiro has no idea his roommate has moved in yet. You guys remember where Toushiro was while Momo was moving in? Good, me neither!

**Chapter Two**

**"Hello, I Hate You"**

It'd been a long night for Hitsugaya, his scheduled girl had the flu and his favorite bar was closed for construction for another month, leaving him to himself on a fine Saturday night.

Needless to say, Toshiro was not in a good mood.

When he finally got through traffic and came up to his front door, he was grumpy and outraged to find the door unlocked.

Stepping into the kitchen, his shoes silent against the tile, he griped his key, ready to shove it into the temple if anyone was sneaking around the house.

He relaxed a bit after finding a note from his landlady, who he was all too eager to keep his distance from after trying her tea. The note was short and simple, just a quick scribble on a post it note telling him that his new roommate Hinamori-kun had moved in three days early.

"Hinamori-kun, huh?" Toushiro thought of what he was going to say to scare this guy shitless, lecturing him about privacy and locking the damn door, an age old pet peeve of his.

He sighed and ran his pale fingers through his white hair. Oh, well, he thought, nothing I can do until morning anyway.

Toushiro threw his jacket on the table and headed up stairs, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Once in his room, he stripped down to just his boxers and tossed his clothes in a corner.

Usually he slept just as he was, but tonight, he decided, he would where a white tank top that he would later shed in the night to relieve himself of the constricted feeling it gave him.

He awoke to the heavy humidity that hung in his room when the air conditioning was off, his alarm clock flashing green numbers at him telling him it was now four am. Time to get up.

Toushiro didn't think it necessary to dress, it was too early for any sane man to be up, so he went down stairs in the early morning light half naked and groggy from his lack of sleep.

Reaching the kitchen, he shuffled around and turned on the coffee maker. What he didn't notice behind the counter was the sleeping girl, her brown hair tangled around her sleeping face.

Rubbing the last reminisce of sleep from his icy blue eyes, the girl he'd failed to perceive had shifted just slightly, so that his ankle caught around her thigh, and he tripped.

They landed in quite a compromising position. Toushiro straddling her, his hands on either side of her head. He stared down at the girl beneath her in shock.

"Who…?"

Momo felt his warm breath on her face, and her eyes blinked open to the sun rise's yellow streaks. The stray rays fell across the floor around her, and the man on top of her.

Wait.

Opening her eyes fully she was met with brilliant blue eyes, then as her eyes strayed downwards, a toned six-pack. She blushed, and then realized that, hey, there was a half naked man on top of her!

Momo could think of only one thing to do as the man stared down into her chocolate eyes. She let out a sound like a cross between a banshee's shriek and an anime heroine's "Kyaaaa!"

"Shush shush! Jesus, just shut up!" Toushiro said in a panic. The screaming continued. He rolled his eyes and clamped his hand over her mouth.

Bringing his face down to meet her frightened eyes he said in a low voice by her ear, "I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Now I'm going to move my hand and you and I can sort out what the hell your doing here, neh?"

He put on his best comforting voice. Which wasn't much, but hey, it WAS his house, and technically she WAS an intruder. But something inside him just wouldn't let him treat her like he would anyone else he found lying in his kitchen.

As he slowly moved his hand, he was caught off guard as she bit down hard on his hand. He was sure she'd drawn blood. "Ack!"

Momo scrambled to get up but Toushiro grabbed her wrist and spun her around and brought her close, holding her by the waist and bringing her over to the couch.

"Stay!" he told her like he would a dog as he dropped her on the cushions before leaving to find a first aid kit.

As Momo hit the couch, her foot caught one of the legs of the table, and she as trapped until the strange man came back.

When he did, Momo was curled up into the smallest ball she could manage with her foot ensnared.

"Stuck?" he said with a grin.

Momo glared at him defiantly as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch and treated his hand. He winced as he rubbed alcohol on it with a cotton ball.

But how would he know where to find a first aid kit in this house? Even she didn't know that. Maybe he was a rapist come to kidnap her and he brought along all kinds of medical supplies to surgically remove her heart because of some past relationship gone bad with a girl that looked just like her.

Her mind told her she watched too much CSI and she looked for a better explanation while trying to free her foot.

Momo's head snapped up, "….Shiro….Chan?"

Toushiro froze, then grunted, "Great, my roommate is a cannibal,"

"WHAT?" Momo screamed, finally catching on.

"If anything I should be outraged, my roommate is a RAPPIST!" Momo got her foot free and sat as far as the couch would let her.

"Pft, yeah right, you're the one sleeping on the kitchen floor, what, are you some kind of rat?" Toushiro finished wrapping his hand up.

She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him. "I was not…. Oh, I guess I was…. But then how did you end up….?" She blushed and looked away.

"On top of you? You tripped me." Toushiro said as he got up and left for the kitchen, returning with two cups of black coffee.

"Here," he handed her one and she scrunched her nose. She was never one for black coffee, but she really needed to be fully awake for this conversation.

"So you're Hinamori? Jeeze, old hag told me you were coming, but she made it sound like you were… you know, a guy," he looked sheepish.

"Yeah, I know the feeling." She sipped her coffee and inwardly cringed at the bitter taste, wondering how the man across from her could drink it straight faced.

"Why are you up so early? It's insane," Momo stated frankly to fill the silence.

"I don't know, why were you on the floor?" He said sarcastically.

"I was…. Well, it none of your business anyway!" she shouted.

"Fine, I don't want to know why anyways."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Cannibal." He stated shortly.

"Shiro-chan, don't be so mean!" she smirked his way as he slowly turned red. In anger or embarrassment she didn't know, but she certainly didn't expect what came next…..

He made his way over to her, his shocking eyes twitching ever so slightly. Hitsugaya crossed the room and stood before her so that she had to look up from her seat on the couch.

"I hate you," he said bluntly.

Unfazed by his obvious dislike for her she blinked up at him, widening her brown eyes to enhance the effect. She hadn't done this in far too long.

"B-but, Shiro-chan, we're roommates now." She said, and he stepped back, surprised by her sudden mask of innocence.

"And after all, shouldn't roommates get along?" she put on her best pout and looked at him from under her long dark lashes.

"At least…." She looked down so her bangs covered her eyes and a mocking smile was hard to conceal. "While the neighbors are listening…."

He looked at her puzzled and she stood up quickly, he gave her room and almost backed into the coffee table as she brusquely walked over to the window, tearing back the curtain to reveal…..

**fOoT nOtE**

Guess you guys are gunna have to wait to find out, huh? MUAHAHAHAH! But I wouldn't be surprised if you could already guess what I have plotted out. But don't worry; I plan on making this next chapter phenomenal! Its gunna have humor, drama, and hopefully the first hints of romance! That is if you don't count the kitchen incident as romance.

Although, I may have to bump it back a few chapters to build it up. It depends on how many reviews I get! HAHA! MAD ÉCLAIR IS QUITE SATISFIED WITH HER EVIL PLANN!

See you next chapter!


	3. My Roommate, the Hypochondriac

Sorry it took so long, its fall break now though so I can probably manage to update at least once more before the break ends. The next chapter is gunna be a long one, so give me your ideas and let me know if you want me to throw some OCs in or if I've left out any one. But do NOT ask me to put Kira in this fic, cuz I will flat out refuse

Chapter Three

"My Roommate, the Hypocondriac"

"At least…." She looked down so her bangs covered her eyes and a mocking smile was hard to conceal. "While the neighbors are listening…."

He looked at her puzzled and she stood up quickly, he gave her room and almost backed into the coffee table as she brusquely walked over to the window, tearing back the curtain to reveal…..

"Matsumoto?" Hitsugaya gaped at his old friend, now caught red handed, scrunched up under the window sill, her strawberry blond hair sticking to her flushed face, which was pressed up against the dirty glass.

"Yo-ho!" she grinned, obviously tipsy. "Guess you guys found me, huh?"

"Who…?" Momo stared at her baffled, still clutching the blackout shades.

"Oh! Hellow there!" Matsumoto Rangiku stumbled through the window and scooped Momo's tiny frame up in a colossal death hug.

"You must be Hinamori!"

"Mph!" the sound was muffled by Rangiku's monumental bosom.

Rangiku frowned and stopped twirling for a moment, grabbing Momo's shoulders and pushing her at arm's length, allowing her to breathe until her blue face gained its color again.

"That's weird…" Rangiku scrunched up her face and Toushiro pinched the bridge of his nose in anticipation of what he knew would come next….

"The way Taicho told it, I thought you were a guy, but look at that right there! You're no guy at all!" Rangiku said while using her free hand to grope Momo.

"Taicho, you sly thing, you just wanted poor Hinamori all to yourself, huh? Well you can't have her!" Matsumoto said teasingly before embracing a flushed Momo in another bone crushing hug.

"Careful, Matsumoto, this one bites," Toushiro smirked at his own joke and held up his bandaged hand as proof.

"Lies!" Momo yelped, but because of her current position, it sounded more like she said "Fries!"

Rangiku gasped, "Your craving Mickey D's TOO! Taicho, we have to go! Were on a mission! To the nearest McDonald's!" she shouted, clutching Momo to her chest and using her free hand to point to the door while jumping around excitedly.

"Your drunker than I thought if you think I'm going to drive you twenty friggin miles for some fries," Toushiro crossed his arms impatiently.

"That's okay, I can drive!" Rangiku grabbed the keys and had claimed Momo's wrist as she dragged her towards the door.

Before they could get any farther, Toushiro appeared out of nowhere in front of them.

"Your not driving anywhere like that," she told her and Momo peeked around to get a better look at this Rangiku person who was trying to kidnap her.

Momo had thought that Toushiro was only joking when he said she was drunk, but now she could see the glaze over her eyes, the disheveled attire, her flushed cheeks, and her less than sturdy posture.

{The Next Morning}

Momo awoke more groggy than usual, last night's (rather, early morning before she went back to bed for another three hours…) memories flooding her head.

"_**You're not driving anywhere…" Toushiro had told Matsumoto, frowning disapprovingly at her wobbly stance. **_

"_**But Taichoooo…." Matsumoto whined, stamping her foot like a petulant child.**_

_**He sighed, "Go wait in my car, I'll drive you back to your place." **_

_**Momo looked back between the both of them, and was relieved when Rangiku released her wrist from her strong hold. **_

"_**Sorry." he muttered, his tone was halfway sincere and she regarded him with a suspicous glance. "About Matsumoto I mean," he quickly recovered. "She's a lot to handle, but you'll get used to her," Toushiro looked almost apologetic as he watched Rangiku shamble out the door.**_

"_**Yeah…" was her brilliant response.**_

_**He rolled his eyes, back to his old self, obviously as he snatched his keys from the wooden stand by the door and followed after Matsumoto.**_

Not taking into account his flippant and sarcastic attitude, Momo was convinced now that her roommate had a heart. Just the fact that he had driven Matsumoto home, especially after finding her eavesdropping, proved that. And that in itself was enough for Momo to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was having a bad day?

Indeed he was, but later that morning she found that, no, this was just his usual self.

"Still here, Hannible?" Toushiro called as she stumbled down the steps rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Wah?" she responded, skipping the last step and falling into the toned and not surprisingly bare chest of her roommate.

"Jeeze, just can't help yourself, can you?" his voice vibrated slightly in his chest and shook Momo from her tired state as a blush stained her cheeks red and she pushed herself up only to trip again and be caught by the elbow, saved yet again.

Toushiro frowned as she steadied herself against him and stood straight.

"You're not very graceful, are you? Don't worry, I'm sure that your complete and utter lack of femininity and your odd eating habits are a turn on for _somebody_."

She turned red again, thought she wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or fury.

She shoved away from him and grabbed hold of the wall behind her, glaring him down and hating his smug little smirk more every second.

"Don't you have somewhere to be? School, maybe?" she asked, hoping to change the subject of her being eternally single.

"Well, I would, but I'm waiting for the results of a blood test," he stifled his chuckle as Momo responded in her kindly concerned tone.

"What are they testing for?"

"Oh, just making sure you didn't give me _**Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome**_" he snickered.

"Huh?" her eyebrows knitted and she tilted her head so her dark and knotted hair was swept to one side.

Toushiro just stared for a moment, horrified at the blush slowly creeping up to his cheeks. "So innocent looking…"

Before she could see his flushed face, Toushiro reminded himself that she was nothing if not demon spawn, thinking back to last night and the large bite mark on his arm.

He tuned so he didn't have to face her before smirking again, "it's transmitted through rat bites…" and brusquely walking back to the kitchen.

Momo stood in place silently as she comprehended and Toushiro pushed his back against the wall and waited for her anticipated response….

"But…wait….WHAT DID YOU JUST CAL ME?" he chuckled almost fondly as he listened to her stomp around up stairs, getting ready.

"She's probably gunna get me back for that one later…" he thought with a triumphant grin, anxious to see her retaliation. He was confident that she was too timid to do anything too severe... but part of him hoped that looks were decieving….

Momo rushed back and forth between her bedroom and connecting bathroom, half dressed with a toothbrush in her mouth and her face still flushed in embarrassment.

"I can't believe I was actually worried about that jerk for a minute there…." She thought, angrily yanking a brush through her slowly smoothing hair.

With no time to shower, she swore that tonight would be her pamper day, manicure, pedicure, bubble bath, the whole thing.

Looking forward to tonight, she left her room with a new found contentment.

She'd almost forgotten...

Momo managed to evade Toushiro on her way out the door, and decided that it was a good omen; nothing could bring her down today.

She was half way to the university when she realized she'd forgotten her sketchbook for her art classes. Sighing and slapping her forehead, she left herself a mental note to place it back in her book bag the night before from now on.

Upon approaching the student parking lot, still berating herself over her stupidity, she failed to notice the larger car about to plow into her quite breakable prius.

Inside the other car, two boys around her age laughed carelessly, the driver obviously not looking at the road in front of him.

As the two vehicles neared each other, one at top speed, the other a careless meander, the passenger in the other car turned his head in time to notice Momo.

"Dude, look out!" he shouted, and as it became clear the driver was not going to respond in time, said passenger grabbed hold of the steering wheel.

He slammed his fist into the horn and Momo looked up in just enough time to slam on her breaks and, instead of having the full impact of the crash on the driver's side door, the front hood.

She stared wide eyed, heart pounding, hands clenched, as the two boys jumped out of the car and to her side.

"Hey, you okay? Are you hurt?" said the orange haired man that had sat in the passenger seat.

"I am so sorry! Please forgive me! I should have been watching where I was going, and I wasn't, and oh my god, I am so sorry!" the driver, a red head with strange tattoos on his forehead.

Momo slowly turned to face them and gave them a pittiful smile.

"Yeah, I'm alright, just a little shaken…" she collected herself quickly and as the red haired man diligently went through every word of apology, she waved her hands animatedly.

"No, no, it was partially my fault! It's fine, really! Not even a scratch on me!"

"Jeeze Renji, such a knuckle head sometimes. And again I have to be the one to save your ass," the orange haired boy smirked, poking fun at his distressed friend.

Renji halted immediately and jumped to his own defense, and before Momo had realized it, the two began butting heads.

During the fight, she had picked out that the passenger, the one that had saved her car the full blow, was called Ichigo, and the red head, Renji, and was supposedly notorious for this type of stunt. Ichigo, equally so.

Satisfied with the information gathered from observing their argument for a mere three minutes, she slowly backed away into her car.

Before going to find a space, she rolled down the window and called to the boys who had hardly remembered the cause of their dispute.

"I'll see you around campus!" she yelled.

Quickly forgetting their fight, Ichigo and Renji gave her matching looks of confusion. "But what about the damage to your car?"

"Don't worry about it, just a little dent, I don't mind it." She smiled, then brought her finger to her chin with a thoughtful look. "Though, my car might have a bone to pick with you later…" she teased

She laughed at herself and stuck out her tongue like the childish young woman she was and waved to them as they stood dumbfounded.

"Dude, she was kinda hot, huh?" Renji stared after her.

Ichigo responded with a hard punch to Renji's shoulder and a throbbing vein in his forehead.

After hunting down a parking spot, she slid out of her tiny Prius to inspect the damage. Walking around to the front of the car, she saw that right above the huge dent was a scratch the size of her outstretched arm.

She pouted slightly "Man, and on the first day too…."

But never one to look on the negative side of things, she smiled to herself and thought that she may have just met someone she could be close to in the future.

"This is my new beginning, my new life starts now," she thought as she slowly approached the massive college campus.

Arriving with almost an hour to spare, she sat in the air conditioned library (that she took several minutes to marvel at) and studied her schedule.

First period: Art

Momo cheered silently to herself.

Second period: Language Arts

She smiled; creative writing was one of her strengths

Third period: Life Science

NOT her strong point, but she would tolerate it. Momo just hoped they didn't make her dissect anything.

Fourth period: Algebra 1

Her face darkened, math formulas never stuck well in her head, and she had nearly failed two years in a row.

"Maybe I should consider asking someone to tutor me?" Hitsugaya would be ideal, they did share a house, but the thought of him laughing in her face and telling her she wasn't worthy of his intellect made her blood boil and her ego deflate rapidly.

"Well, I can cross him off my list… "

Fifth period: Humanities

Just a fancy way to say social studies, Momo told herself, it can't be much worse than her high school courses, right?

She had fifteen minutes between each class, and a thirty minute break after Language Arts.

"I can make this work," she encouraged herself.

Flipping over the page she'd gotten from the office over the summer, she saw something she'd missed all the other times she'd looked over her schedule.

She had three additional classes! "I don't remember signing up for that!" she screamed in her head.

Sixth period: Media

Well, I guess it can't be so bad. But remembering the jokes from middle school about her repelling any type of technology haunted her.

Seventh period: Spanish

SPANISH! But I don't know SPANISH! Momo panicked. Breathe, she told herself, you'll find a way.

Eighth period: Creative writing and Poetry

Oh, well that didn't sound too bad. But wait, if creative writing is its own class, what are we doing in Language Arts?

Momo sighed. This was going to get complicated, fast.

She slumped over in her chair, leaning on her elbows and twirling a stray piece of hair around her finger. Her thoughts gradually made their way from her classes to her roommate.

"Who does he think he is? He can't just go around calling people cannibals! And he was the one laying on top of me when I woke up! I had every right to bite him! I thought he was a pervert!" she fumed, violently pulling at her hair.

"Whoa! Careful you don't want to pull it all out, honey! Your hair is way to pretty!" a strawberry blond woman at least an inch taller than Momo and five cup sizes bigger than her was standing next to her.

She looked up and instinctively released her hair from her death grip.

"Atta girl! I'm Rangiku Matsumoto by the way!"

"W-what…?" Momo stared at the girl in front of her and processed the information slowly.

A light bulb went off in her head and she noisily stood up and pointed an accusing finger at the girl, her chair toppling over onto the floor. "Y-YOU!" she yelled and got several dirty looks from the library dwellers around her.

Remembering where she was she smiled nervously and picked up her chair.

"Me?" Matsumoto asked innocently, pointing to herself.

Momo gave her a strange look, "Weren't you the one outside of my house the other night? Under the window sill? Hitsugaya and I found you?" she asked.

"Hmmm…" Rangiku was deep in thought, or at least looked it.

"Nope! Not ringing any bells!" she grinned.

Momo sweat dropped anime style.

"Wait, was I drunk by any chance?" she asked inlay.

"Well, you sure looked it…" she said guiltily.

"OH! Well that explains a lot! Once you mentioned Hitsugaya taicho I remembered! Well, not remembered, but you know. I don't remember being at your house, but I do remember waking up with a massive hang over and a note from him!" she said excitedly.

Momo laughed nervously.

"Oi! Matsumoto!" a large group of kids approached them, among them were the two boys from that morning which Momo instantly recognized, a raven haired girl not even half their size, a girl that could very well be Rangiku's sister with orange hair and large chest, a serious looking boy with shiny black hair and glasses, as well as several others.

This was going to be an interesting year...

**FoOt NoTe**

Done! Yay! So on my way back to Honolulu, the land of never ending summer! Jealous? Don't be, its way hot/humid over there now and I'll be dreading it even more now that I'm so used to the Shell knob Missouri chill. Oh! And before I can get on my fourteen hour flight home I'll be stopping by in Chicago! Beautiful! On the way here we landed at five in the morning, it was freezing! Ack!


	4. My Roommate, the Player

Hey guys! Hope you don't mind, I hate going through all the introductions and everything, so I'm doing a SHORT time skip.

I'm not sure how long exactly, I haven't decided, but just long enough that Momo is comfortable with her new gang, and short enough that Toushiro hasn't come back to school yet. But don't worry; it's all part of my master plan…. MUAHAHAHAHA!

^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%

Chapter Four

"My Roommate, the Player"

Momo's week went on as she'd expected it to when she first moved in, before meeting "Shiro-chan." She woke up way too early, skipped breakfast, went to school, aced her exams, and talked casually with her new friends.

She especially enjoyed the company of Rukia, Orihime, and Rangiku. They chatted idly for hours about absolutely nothing, occasionally bringing up the issue of Momo living with a hormonal young {highly attractive} man. At which she would blush and change the subject.

Momo hardly saw Hitsugaya the whole week, he left before she did, and returned home after she went to bed, if at all. She had no idea what he did all day, because she was sure he wasn't going to school.

The drive home that Friday was miserable, traffic sucked, stupid drivers sucked, her massive headache sucked…

Once out of traffic she sped off towards her home, not even bothering to worry about the speed limit. Momo was desperate for that bubble bath. Monday was supposed to be her pamper day, but she decided to wait until she got settled and worked herself to the point that she needed a pamper night.

What she failed to notice would not escape her this time, unfortunately.

As Momo trudged up the stairs to her room, exhausted from the day's activities consisting of learning, introductions, and more learning….

Upon arriving in her homely room, she unceremoniously threw her bag into an unoccupied corner and went to the bathroom to start the hot water for a much needed bubble bath.

But once she stepped inside she realized with a disappointed sigh that in place of a tube, sit a tall stand up shower. Great for quick showers in the morning, impossible to take a bath in.

Before deeming it a lost cause, Momo remembered with a flash that there was another bathroom in the house that was equipped with the necessary relaxation tools her aching muscles craved.

Problem: It was Hitsugaya's bathroom.

Well, what now? She thought angrily to herself. She wouldn't be caught using his bath, it wasn't right. And just imagine the taunting words when he found out she had been in there. He would probably make some perverted thing out of it.

But, Momo could not resist, and before her logical side could intervene, she had grabbed her pajamas and shampoos and made her way to the stoic boy's room.

She checked through the window for his car anywhere is the distance, but the darkness of the night comforted her and she hurriedly undressed and filled the tub with steaming water.

Once her bath was ready, Momo sunk deep into the water, letting it swallow her and all her problems, all of her unpleasant memories.

Being submerged below the nose, she slowly drifted off to nowhere in particular. Her floral scented shampoo letting off the sweetest, most refreshing and clean scent her clouded mind could muster. As she weaved her slender fingers through her long brown locks, she felt her sadness prickle behind her eyes, threatening to flow freely if she did not suppress them.

But she hadn't the strength to wipe them away, and Momo watched her reflection in the water as her tears streamed down her porcelain face and distorted the mirror image.

It was entirely his fault. Momo new exactly what that lady, her landlord, saw when looking into her still healing eyes that day. She saw a broken heart, a weakened self esteem, and a pathetic excuse for a girl.

And it was entirely his fault…

"I hate you…Aizen…"

Before she started to sob, she gathered herself and reminded herself that Aizen couldn't hurt her anymore. Only his dark memory remained to haunt her, and Momo was determined to erase him completely.

There would be no more tears shed over him at her expense, Momo could take care of herself, she was dejected when he left her, but it was in the past, and she could be her own person again.

"Sister, I'll make you proud for sure," her voice was suddenly determined, and a smile spread across her features as she felt the warmth of her childhood memories comfort her.

Deciding she was being slightly dramatic, she stood to finish her bath, thinking about the homework that was assigned earlier that day. No matter if it wasn't due for another week, better to have it out of the way, right?

But so, so wrong. Because it was this notion that led her from the comfort of her safe bedroom to the kitchen down stairs. Momo was only looking for her science textbook, and yet she found so much more.

She stealthily clambered down the stairs, laughing at herself while fighting the urge to hold her hand like a gun and hum the mission impossible theme.

Momo stopped at the bottom of the stairs and peeked around the corner, expecting everything, anything but what she found.

Her roommate Hitsugaya was home, head down on the kitchen counter, tuff of abnormally white hair poking teasingly from beneath his folded arms that supported his head, and his broad shoulders rising and falling rhythmically.

He was asleep.

Momo took in the sight before her with child like wonder, approaching cautiously, reaching with hesitant hands to brush a lock of snowy hair from his serene and vulnerable face as he breathed slowly.

His hair was surprisingly soft, and her fingers mindlessly stroked it. She caught herself before accidentally waking him, and blushed, she was _petting_ him….

She turned away quickly and brusquely walked over to the table and grasped her textbook, that is, after she remembered why she was down stairs in the first place.

But before Momo could leave, the paper Hitsugaya was holding suddenly called to her more curious side, and she softly pried the crumpled paper from his hand.

His breathing stuttered slightly as she moved, and Momo froze thinking he would wake. But his breathing smoothed and she proceeded to open the paper.

It was a piece of folder paper, notes from an Algebra 2 class that looked suspiciously like the ones she took at her collage.

That aside, she looked it over, it was defiantly a female's handwriting, looping and swirling here and there, and on the back was a tiny scrawl addressed to Hitsugaya.

_**Hitsugaya sempai,**_

_**Sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea for us to date any more, especially after finding out about your "reputation." I met with them the other day, and they let me know just how seriously you take your relationships with women. **_

_**~Niki**_

Momo read over the letter once more, shocked. If she'd read that right, her roommate was…

No, could it be?

Well, it would explain where he was all day that whole week, who he was with, and, dear god, what he was doing. Oh no, this just wouldn't do.

At that moment, Hinamori Momo came to the conclusion that her roommate was a player….

**FoOt NoTe**

Sorry I took so long guys, I wrote the whole thing out twice and deleted it because it just wasn't right. But don't worry, all that time I spent writing the fail chapter four, will be used later on! Yeah, I was kind of getting ahead of myself, but in the last few chapters updates will be faster and chapters will be longer since I already wrote half!

Next time you're on my profile, please check out my poll. I collect story plots, and I'm going to write all of my stories, I just don't know where to start. But before I start on any of those, ill finish this one!


	5. My Roommate, the Artist

Author's note- Hey, it took me a really long time to finish this, so you may notice the plot/focus shift every here and there. Please bear with me as I attempt to meet my deadlines. All will be revised in time.

Roommates Chapter 5

"My Roommate, the Artist"

Little did poor, ignorant Momo know, Toushiro was very much awake.

But then why did he pretend to be asleep? Because it's fun. Simple enough.

As a child, Toushiro Hitsugaya was under the constant pressure to be a better son, student, athlete, better everything.

Toushiro's dedication to his studies led him to stay up well into the night for years, hardly sleeping at all until the weekend came, when he would disappear into his room.

As a result of his lack of sleep, Toushiro was constantly ill, much like his uncle Jushiro. The two of them weren't very close until they had to sit on the couch, snot dripping out of each of their noses, and spent the days watching re-runs of Hawaii 5-0.

Jushiro became Toushiro's father figure, and Jushiro was indeed known for his kind disposition, and could nearly fill the gaping hole one leaves in a child when abruptly taken out of the picture.

But he couldn't possibly stop the resentment that bubbled in the pit of his stomach when his father was mentioned. And who could blame his after his own father was abandoned him, claiming that his absence would prompt his son to grow into a man earlier than usual

It's true that Toushiro was more mature than many his age, and even managed to surpass his professors in his wisdom and intellect.

But still he craved the company of… well, he wasn't really sure what it was he wanted. For a long time he thought he wanted a relationship, but as he recently discovered via note, he was very wrong.

At least in the manner of which he pursued his targets.

You see, Hitsugaya Toushiro was not your average playboy. Nor was he your average anything. He used his charm and good looks to captivate any woman of choice, learned the way their brain functioned in a matter of hours, maybe dated them for a few days, and moved on.

He liked to call it research for future reference when seriously pursuing a girl.

The women liked to call it satanic manipulation of a female's soul.

But as of late, Toushiro had to admit that through all of his "research" he had never once encountered a girl quite like Momo.

She challenged him, in a way he didn't know was possible. She presented him with an endless mystery while her eyes promised answers just around the bend. She was truly an enigma…

"AHH!" Toushiro was snapped from his thoughts as said girl tumbled gracelessly down the steps, her face making direct impact with the floor. A muffled groan reverberated in her chest, and the sound hit Toushiro's ears like a thousand sneezing clouds. Needless to say, underneath his cold exterior, he was tickled pink.

He swallowed his laughter. Enigma. What was he thinking? This girl was just a clumsy…whatever she was…

What was she?

He pondered this as Momo rose to her feet, only to wobble and stable herself on the couch's arm.

"Aiya, one-chan always said I should watch myself on the steps," she said with a melancholic smile, as if recalling a memory buried into the deepest fog of her mind, never meant to be disrupted.

"I take it you didn't get the hint," Toushiro chuckled at her, bemused by her cluelessness as she leapt ten inches in fright.

"S-Shiro-chan, I didn't know you were up."

"Yup, just got up actually, how long have you been home?" he lied smoothly, smirking to himself as he leaned into the counter behind him, his muscular arms flexed naturally as he hoisted himself to sit on the cool granite.

Momo visibly blushed and strained to avert her eyes from the attractive man she shared a house with.

"Um, not long. I guess. Well, since noon, but…" she glanced at the clock and Toushiro followed her gaze smugly.

"O-oh, that late already? " she eyed the clock, willing it to turn back and make her statement plausible.

"Indeed," he was enjoying the flustered look on her face as she struggled to make sense of the nonsensical words buzzing in her head.

"Don't bother with your flimsy excuses," he told her, his tone menacing as he stalked toward her.

As he passed her, he noticed that she was just the right height that he could lean in and whisper in her ear.

"I already know what you've been up to, my naughty peach."

Toushiro collapsed into the cushions arranged on his futon, his hands lost in his thick white hair. He remembered the feel of her hands in it and grunted at his own fickleness.

"Why can't I just make up my mind about her, she's no different from Matsumoto or any of them…" he tried to convince himself.

Toushiro sighed, but she wasn't. She was most defiantly not like the others. But how?

The next morning he awoke to the usual sounds of Hinamori scrambling to get her things ready and get out the door on time.

Toushiro closed his eyes and could see her, with her hair in a messy clump on top of her head, clad in pajamas, eyes wide and searching.

He grinned when he heard her mumbling to herself her plans or the day. He had learned much about his roommate by keeping an open ear in the morning.

He listened closely and heard her stumble into the hallway and his eyes flew open simultaneously with the door as she burst in.

Toushiro sat up and stifled his laughter as he took her in.

Hinamori was leaning against the door frame, her hair hung in her eyes and her messenger bag strung over her shoulder, overlapping her cow printed pajamas.

"Ah! Hitsugaya! I'll be home late tonight, okay? Rangiku and Rukia are going to help me study, but I should be back around eight," she huffed.

"I know," he smirked; he had heard her talking to herself about it.

She gave him a confused glance before shaking whatever he was thinking about out of her head.

"Whatever, I have to go, bye Shiro-Chan!" she called and pranced out the door.

Just how long will it take her to realize….?

"EEEEK!"

Well, not that long at all, Toushiro thought as he watched Hinamori in a panic from the top of the stairs. She walked past him blushing and he teased, "Moo…"

"Shiro-chan!"

Toushiro sat on the couch in the living room at about ten till seven.

Like he had been all day.

He was supposed to go out and meet with a few of his friends, but had backed out last minute. For whatever reason, Toushiro didn't feel like he should be cutting class like this.

He supposed that was Hinamori's fault, but wasn't sure why.

"Come to think of it, I'm not really sure o anything when it comes to her…"

Then, genius struck him. If he wanted to know more, he would just snoop around in her room a while. She wouldn't be back for another hour or so…

Toushiro made his way upstairs in record time and entered her bedroom.

He was surprised to see that her room was nearly spotless, the only thing that lay in disarray were her paintings.

They lay in piles leaned up against the walls, canvas after canvas, adorned with the most elegant colors and landscapes he'd seen in all his life.

One showed the view from a villa window, looking out to a lake at sunset. Toushiro marveled at how the orange and yellow specks of paint so realistically splashed against the water and bounced around the silhouettes of the trees that left a feeling of seclusion and isolation.

Another depicted a woman with long black hair sitting on a bench in a park, the fall leaves dancing around her. She seemed to wait for someone to join her there, and he nearly wished that he could comfort the lonely looking woman.

One after another, each master piece eliciting a new emotional response from Toushiro, and his eyes glistened as he took in the beauty of it all.

After riffling through a few of her paintings, he looked up and examined her latest work. Set up in the corner of the room with Hinamori's easel was a watercolor painting of him.

In the painting, he stood looking up into the night sky, a look of pure anguish on his perfectly captured face as the Cheshire cat moon taunted him. His arms were stretched lazily in front of him and his hands clasped what he assumed to be a fallen star.

It was beautiful, but he noticed that the small light he held in the painting was dying, gray mixed in to the rays of white light that illuminated his face with perfect shading.

Out of his back grew large wings of white, but they too had begun to fade to gray at the edges.

And finally taking in the picture as a whole he noticed that he was shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark jeans.

….

Did he really go shirtless often enough that Hinamori would have his toned body memorized?

He smirked, or did she just pay that much attention?

Toushiro had just about finished his pawing through her things and was backing out of the room when he stumbled on a painting left hanging out from under her bed.

He pulled it out and brushed the dust away to reveal the most horrifying image he had seen outside his own nightmares. Sketched onto the thick paper in charcoal pencil was her, Hinamori, crouched on the floor o what looked to be a ware house, her head in her hands and her face half concealed by her hair. What was visible of her face was smeared with tears and in rosy pastels, blood.

The Hinamori in the sketch was so utterly broken, her cloths torn and tattered, long gashes covering her creamy skin. She was leaning over a pool of crimson pastel, in it was the outline of another person, a woman he guessed by the long hair and slim figure, but eraser marks concealed the rest. Looming over her was the leering shadow of a man, with broad shoulders and glowing eyes and a malicious aura that jumped from her painting into his soul.

He shivered.

It looked as if she was trying to hide it, but who besides herself would be in her room? Oh, right.

He suddenly felt as if he had gone a step too far in invading Hinamori's privacy, and carefully stowed the painting away. Whatever that image meant, he would leave it alone. No matter how it disturbed him.

Maybe one day she would tell him, he thought as he headed form the door, his hand griping the knob as it turned of its own accord to reveal a flustered Hinamori.

Or maybe he would just find a hole to sit quietly and die in.

fOoT nOtE

Oo! Shiro-chan's gunna get it! Jk, I know exactly where to go from here. So far in my chapter plans I have 13 chapters to write, but I don't know, I may end up with more.

Sorry I'm so late, my computer crashed and pretty much deleted half my chapter. I just got Milo back last week. I should be able to update more frequently now, so please review and let me know if theres anything I can do to make this more enjoyable for you.

A big thank you to TwilightKat777, you've helped me so much with everything. Thank you for remaining my loyal reader! Let's give her a hand, a member for less than a year and already doing better than me! Haha.


	6. My Roommate, the Poet

Thanks again to Chibi M!

Hello, readers. Sorry if you think that this is kind of sudden, me adding this new dimension to one of the characters, but I assure you that I have planned it from the beginning and even though I have forgotten to mention it in the earlier chapters, I do intend to go back and make corrections.

Just to clear up any confusion, this chapter is set the day that Toushiro went in Momo's room, but it's in Momo's POV. This is all happening while Toushiro is at home plotting.

_**Chapter Six**_

"_**My Roommate the Poet"**_

Momo tapped the end of her pencil on her desk impatiently. She couldn't wait for the day to be over.

She sat somewhere in the middle of the large class room, right next to the window. The desks positioned to face the teacher's desk in a semi circle and each row was just a little higher.

The teacher, Ukitake-sensei, was currently lecturing the class on the art of poetry: the rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts.

Usually, Momo was the ideal student, attentive and somewhat scholarly. But today absolutely everything was excruciatingly boring.

"…and that is why poetry is so important in history….. and in the Yamato dynasty….. "

He just droned on an on! She would have preferred to actually read some poetry, not just listen to Ukitake-sensei's monotonous voice for the whole hour.

"Hitsugaya-kun, could you do the honor of explaining the haiku?" his voice called out to the empty desk behind Momo.

"Sensei, Hitsugaya-san has been absent for almost a week," a shy girl in the front answered.

"Very well then, I don't suppose any one of you know the answer?"

Indeed Momo did know the answer, poetry and art went hand in hand. The paintings on canvas are the physical form of the strong condensed meaning in the imagery of a short poem.

But there was no way she could answer with so many people in the room.

"No? Alright,"

Okay, Momo, she told herself firmly, time to pay attention, you can't just slack off the whole period.

She strained to keep her eyes open, listening to the teacher speak.

"*cough* and what is the author trying to say in this line?"

Does Sensei have a cold? Come to think of it, he always seems to be sick, and she had heard from the other students that he missed quite a few lessons. But she had never seen him take off work.

The rumor was that sometimes one of the students in particular would fill in and teach the English class. But that was preposterous, any student that smart wouldn't be a student, he or she would have skipped enough grades to be out of school already, right?

"And in other words…"

Hitsugaya-kun is pretty smart, huh? Well, a smart ass at least, she giggled.

Hey, Ukitake sensei and Shiro-chan kind of look alike. I mean, the same sharp features, and come on, how many people have white hair that aren't in their sixties? Definitely look alike. But Hitsugaya is certainly more handsome.

"So in this case…"

Momo blushed and began to twirl her brown locks through her finders. She did not just think that.

"Well, since we have just fifteen more minutes of class…"

No way! She hadn't heard a word the sensei had said the whole period! She was going to fail this course for sure now. She hung her head in shame, anime tears running down her face in streams.

"…I would like to share a poem from one of my favorite students. He is especially talented and I'm sure you all will enjoy it."

That's new… Momo thought as he began to read, his voice strong but obviously strained.

"_A starry night seems strange to the misty eyes of a vacant man_

_Blackness, in the blackness,_

_Who can tell him where one hell starts and the other ends?_

_Who can tell him that there is no end to the sinister gloom of a winter night?_

_Who can tell him that he sees not the night sky, _

_Rather, himself in the abyss of desolation…_

_Who can better tell him of the pain and anguish of abandonment than himself?_

_Who will tell him he cannot see the end, or the beginning of his own story?_

_Who will tell the man why he cannot possibly marvel the majesty of daybreak,_

_Or watch his children grow?_

_Who will tell the man he is blind?"_

The pencil dropped from Momo's hand and her brown eyes grew large with emotion. How perfectly that poem depicts the sorrows of a simple man, how perfect each word fit into the next like pieces of a long lost and soon forgotten puzzle. How could he or she possibly know such pain and not have been crippled by the aching despair….?

How could one student so perfectly captivate an audience of inattentive adolescence?

The bell rang and the noise reverberated with the words dancing in her mind, and she leapt from her seat and bounded over the teacher's desk with fervor.

"Sensei, who wrote that poem?" Momo's voice was firm, yet pleading.

"Oh! A nice young man, quite the prodigy. In fact, he's my nephew! I remember the first time he…." Ukitake looked nostalgic, and quite ready to bore her with stories from the unknown man's childhood.

She cut him off as politely as she could manage in her great haste to find the author, "Sensei, could you give me a name?"

"Ah, yes, Toshiro. Toshiro Hitsugaya. Though don't ask me why he wanted to keep that last name, after I took him in and offered to adopt him…"

Momo was dazed and could no longer hear Ukitake sensei over the deafening hum in her ear that someone dear to her once joked was the sound of her brain working overtime.

It was during moments like these that she believed it.

"Thank you, Ukitake Sensei, I have to go, but I'd love to hear some stories another time, okay?" she dashed out of the room.

"Maybe she could be the one…" he pondered.

~During Lunch~

Momo, deciding not to tell her new friends about her drama in Language Arts, moved towards an empty lunch table slowly, as not to disturb her thoughts.

"Momo!" Rangiku came bounding down the halls toward her.

"Wait! Ran-chan, slow up!" Rukia was trailing after her, trying to balance her lunch in one hand while the other was ensnared in Rangiku's death hold.

"Momo, your coming to my place this afternoon, right?" her smoky blue eyes gleamed with excitement and mischief. Typical Rangiku.

Snapping out of her reverie, Momo nodded enthusiastically and waited for Rukia to catch her breath before pulling her into the seat next to her.

"Enough with the PULLING, I can walk you know!" Rukia protested.

"With your short legs, honey, sometimes it's just best to let us tall people take care of things," Rangiku teased with a wink and dodged the carton of TruMoo milk thrown her way.

"I hope you're happy, Rukia, you just wasted perfectly good milk."

"My ass, that TruMoo is crap," the elfin girl rolled her eyes.

"She's right, Rangiku, it tastes like water and old wiped cream," Momo chimed in, holding a finger up to stress her point.

"Okay, you win!" she threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Damn straight!" Rukia said, one foot on the table and a fist in the air.

Momo sighed and listened to their argument, wishing the day could just be over, and she could be home with Shiro chan. She wondered if she should ask him about his poem.

"Hello, everyone!" Orehime cheerfully greeted them.

Rukia and Rangiku paused their arguing and welcomed her to the table, they quickly changed the subject to the party, cough, study group, after school.

While they animatedly chatted about it, Momo sat lackluster in her own thoughts.

"Right, Momo?" Rangiku asked her.

"huh? Oh, sure, Rangiku."

It seemed the day would be longer than she had hoped. Lucky for her Creative writing and poetry were her last class for the day. Unfortunately, she would be expected to make an appearance at Rangiku's study session right after.

Momo had originally been exited to spend time with her new friends, to get to know everyone better. Bu as the day progressed she had begun to dread it. What if she made a fool out of herself? What if they didn't like the "real Momo,"? What if they asked her to leave?

~At Orihime's House~

Momo sat on the worn carpet of Orihime's living room staring wide eyed at the scene in front of her.

Rangiku and Orihime had been in a tickle fight just moments ago, and now they sat, heads connected by a massive clump of hair, and Rukia leaning over the couch with a brush in one hand, a pair of scissors in the other, a massive grin swallowing her features.

This was not at all what she had expected. So this was how they studied for a test. Momo had given up on studying early on, but felt that maybe it was best to sit back for a while and let everyone… extricate their hair for starters.

"Muahahahaha!" Rukia glowed with pride and malice at her work. Both Rangiku's and Orihime's hair now had layers… on one side at least… and a small wad of tightly wound orange hair sat in Rukia's palm.

Momo figured there wouldn't be much academic motivation between her friends, but this was too much.

All three friends paused in their anime tears and gloating, interrupted by a fit of giggles from the corner.

Momo was lying on her side, clutching her stomach, and laughing like a man woman.

Well, that's new.

The girl's laughter was contagious and soon all of them were on the floor trying to contain their glee.

~ Later~

Long since having composed themselves, the four girls crowded around Orihime's kitchen table and started a game of Truth.

Truth: like truth or dare, without the dare.

"Why don't we just play Truth or Dare?" Orihime had asked.

Rangiku had, without missing a beat, told them that it wasn't half as much fun without testosterone infested boys. Plus none of them really wanted to move from their spots surrounding the plate of canned cheesed crackers.

"Okay, Rukia," Orihime began, her face determined to faze the girl. "Who do you like?"

Just about the predictable question in this game, Momo thought, though she too was curious.

"That's easy! She's been in love with Ichigo for years!" Rangiku proclaimed.

"Hey!" Rukia whipped her head towards her and looked at her like she had just done her a great personal wrong. Which, admittedly, she probably had.

"What? Its true isn't it?" Rangiku teased.

"Well… maybe." Rukia crossed her arms defiantly and Momo had to laugh at her friend's antics.

"Alright, Momo, if you think it's so funny! Who do you like?" Rukia turned on her.

"I haven't been here long enough to develop feelings for anyone," Momo said bluntly.

"Oh, there has to be someone your at least interested in!" Rangiku pushed.

"Yeah! What about Hitsugaya san? Ran chan told me you lived with him!" Orihime suggested.

Momo was instantly red, and this did not go unnoticed by Rukia. The other two were too busy laughing about the possibility, joking about how cute they would be together.

Rukia raised an eyebrow, but instead of saying anything, she gently smiled, drawing one finger up to her lips with a wink.

So this was her soft side. Momo was beginning to wonder if her boyish friend had one.

If only the other two would let it go so easily.

"Come on! Admit it!" Rangiku leaned over the table to get in her face, though her playful grin destroyed her threatening interrogation.

"I don't know what you're talking about, just a girl and a semi single guy living together, nothing weird about that," Rukia defended.

"Oh yeah, nothing at all," Rangiku laughed sarcastically.

"Semi single?" Orihime gave her a look of confusion.

Rangiku backed away to answer Orihime, "Don't you know? Taicho is a player!"

Momo turned her attention elsewhere as her earlier assumption was confirmed.

"Really? But Hitsugaya san doesn't seem like the type…"

"Yeah, well, Hitsugaya isn't even doing it right so you can hardly call him that," Rukia rolled her eyes.

"So then what IS he doing?" Momo was suddenly alert.

"According to him: research" Rangiku held her fingers up in air quotes.

"On what?" Orihime looked lost.

"Girls of course, mannerisms and such. He wants to know how our minds work, and toying with them is how he thinks he'll do it," Rukia chimed in.

"I think he's doing it for that girl he met when he was eight, he was obsessed with her for so long. Said that he couldn't figure her out, and that when he met her again, he would understand her," Rukia spoke, remembering her younger years.

"That's my Taicho, as loyal as the day is long," Rangiku stated proudly.

"Rangiku chan, you shouldn't say that with the seasons changing as rapidly as they have been, the days are getting shorter," Orihime chided gently.

"All the better for my short little friend!"

"But Rangiku, you have to admit that he's grown so much since middle school, and even high school," Rukia told her.

"How short was he?" Momo asked.

"Oh, he was short. He was 4'4 until he was 17, and then all of a sudden he was growing a mile a minute!" Rangiku threw her arms in the air for emphasis.

"Yeah, but I think this summer he grew the most. He's what? 5'8 now?" Rukia cut in.

"Wow! That's 3 inches taller than Momo!" Orihime said, excited.

"Yeah, and 18 taller than Rukia!" Momo snickered, laughing at the veins popping in her friend's head.

A cushion was aimed at Momo's head, but missed and landed in the crackers.

"Again with the random projectiles!" Rangiku chortled.

"But next to the guys, he still looks a bit short," Orihime told them, still on the topic of Hitsugaya's height.

"Well, I haven't seen him around them, he's been skipping school since I got here," Momo said, slightly peeved.

"Well, he can't hide forever, even a genius like him would fail if he missed a whole year of school," Rangiku seemed to speak from experience, though Momo didn't know if it was from her cutting classes, or from her seeing Hitsugaya do it.

Looking down at her watch, Rukia shot out of her seat, "How did it get to be so late!"

"Wow there, cow girl, take a chill pill and sit down a while," Rangiku joked.

"If you're going, watch out for parking lots, they're breeding grounds for criminals you know, and I saw on the news threes this crazy guy out on the streets," Orihime sounded genuinely concerned for her friend.

"Okay, okay, I've got to get home before Nii Sama throws a shit fit," Rukia stood and on her way past, ruffled Momo's hair with a smirk that reminded her of someone…

"OH! I should be going too! It's already late, I don't want to worry Shiro chan," Momo stood and thanked Orihime for having her over.

Rangiku was still snickering in the background about his nickname.

Momo was then told that she was welcome any time, and if she ever needed to get away, this was the place to go. Orihime lived alone, and though Momo wasn't sure why, she knew it was something Orihime would confide in her about in time.

Just as she would, them. In time…

As Momo exited the large building Orihime resided in, she pulled her hoodie closer around her. The nights really were growing colder.

With only two blocks between her and where she had parked her car (they took Orihime's car from school), Momo told herself that no one could hurt her.

Even if she knew from experience that it wasn't true, it still made her feel just a little bit better. Momo was shifting her book bag higher on her shoulder when she remembered something Ukitake sensei had given her on her way out the classroom earlier.

"You seem very interested in Hitsugaya's work, would you like to borrow my collection?" he had asked with a kind smile. He had then handed her a thin booklet with a blank hard cover.

"I've organized them in the order he gave them to me. He seemed quite reluctant to hand over the last few though; I only just got them from him a few days ago via email."

Momo took it with a look of thanks, "Thank you, Ukitake Sensei, I have to go, but I'd love to hear some stories another time, okay?" and rushed out of the classroom.

Now, alone in the night, the streets empty, she decided now would be as good a time as any to flip through it. It may keep her mind occupied as flashes of her sister tormented her.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the book, and noticing under the yellow street light that there was a small ice blue snowflake in the corner. How very befitting for the little ice cube.

As she looked through the poems, Momo felt warmth swell in her belly. Her roommate was amazing. Momo felt closer to him as she fingered the edges of one page in particular. Half way through reading it, a sharp pain in her finger alerted her to the thin line where the paper had sliced her skin.

She hissed and bit back a curse, "That might get in the way of my painting."

"You should be more careful, you know I like my prey in one piece," a cold voice by her ear made her blood run hot, fear and rage colliding in a violent clash of emotion inside of her only just mended soul.

"At least, at first," he said, his breath sending an unpleasant chill to balance on her nape, threatening to tip and cascade down her back.

"Aizen…" Momo hoped that her voice had come out half as strong as she had hoped, she willed herself to stop trembling, reminding herself to breath.

"It took me quite a while to find you, love, you should know better than to hide from me," a large hand took hold of her forearm, sending her body into motion.

Adrenaline pounded in her body as she turned towards him and thrashed against his unyielding grip. Momo clawed, kicked, wriggled, and screamed against him.

"Now, now, you don't want to end up like your precious Onee san," Momo froze immediately; looking up into the stone eyes of the man who single handedly ruined her.

His glasses reflected her pathetic figure, and his smile filled with malice. When the glare of the yellow streetlight above them subsided, she saw that his eyes had closed in contempt.

She slowly felt the hatred seep back into her through the connection of his hand, disgust and helplessness along with it.

"You killed her," it wasn't a question.

"That's a possibility," Aizen chuckled as he felt her small frame shake beneath his hand.

"You bastard," Momo looked into his jovial eyes with tears in her own, she knew there was no way she could escape him like this. Half his size and standing in the empty street. "She didn't do anything to deserve the horror you put her through!"

"But Momo dear, don't you remember? It was you who told her about our relationship, if I hadn't gotten rid of her, she would have told everyone. You made me do it, Momo, you may as well have killed her yourself."

'He's right, it was my fault…'

Momo deeply regretted the choices she had made as a teenager, dating Aizen, moving out of her and her sister's home, not fighting back, and getting her sister involved with that monster…. And no matter how many years were placed between her and the night she found her sister's corps, she would always remember. That night, it should have never happened. And it was her fault that it had.

She relaxed slightly against Aizen's hold, maybe this was karma coming back to bite her in the ass, maybe her sister wanted this, to get even. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

"And as the handsome prince drove his blade into the evil Sea Witch's heart, he said aloud, "For my Princess, I have avenged thee, an eye for an eye, a life for a life." The Sea Witch fell dead on the floor and the prince ran to his beloved in time to see the last whisper of life leave her eyes, the words still fresh on her lips, "Live for me." The End."

The bedtime story read to her as a child came back to her, her sister's voice fluidly carrying each word like a precious gift. _That_ was what her sister wanted for her.

'Don't give up yet, Momo.'

What followed this thought was a series of serendipitous events that took all of ten seconds to complete.

One: A car cruised down the street, headlights blinding, stereo blaring.

Two: Aizen turned and cursed, shortly distracted.

It took only 10 seconds for Momo to escape:

Three: Strength and adrenaline flooded her senses and she ripped herself out of his grasp.

Four: Momo's arm swung back, and she slammed her closed fist into his hard jaw. She heard a satisfying crack.

Five: She ran out into the street with Aizen in tow.

Six: Aizen reached for her, his nails dug into her skin and left three bloody trails down her forearm.

Seven: Momo looked at the oncoming car, observing the oblivious drunken man behind the wheel as he accelerated toward her and Aizen.

Eight: Momo backed up three steps and watched the beat up old Sonata barrel into Aizen, missing her by inches.

Nine: The car's horn beeped and Momo scooped her book bag into her arms.

Ten: Momo ran as if the devil was at her heels.

Momo made a mad dash to the end of the deserted street, towards the busy highway where she knew Aizen couldn't follow her.

Momo went through the night in her head once more before she started the car and hurried home.

She was both pleasantly surprised and suspicious of Aizen's behavior. He had never been the type to fall into a trap of any kind, he was a careful planner, and his sadistic mind was cynical and clever.

Did he let her get away? Was this part of his scheme? What was he planning to devastate her this time?

But remembering the look of anger and shock as she slammed her fist into him, she knew that he had not been expecting her to fight back. But what about the car? It wasn't going fast enough to kill anyone, but it would cause some damage.

Back in the alley, Aizen was smirking through the pain in his jaw as he stood slowly, a silhouette against the yellow of the streetlight as he balanced himself on the hood of the car.

Upon impact, the driver had been thrust forward and his head crushed against the wheel.

Aizen chuckled, at least he didn't have to worry about witnesses.

He brushed the dirt from his cloths, simple blue jeans and a white wife beater made it easy to blend in this part of town.

He stumbled over to the sidewalk where he had been waiting for his sweet Momo. She had grown, and he found he was even turned on by the girl who had fought back tonight, more than he was the timid child who hid behind her bruises.

"So she wants to play it like that, huh?"

Aizen looked at himself in the distorted reflection of a puddle in the street at where the road had skinned his cheek, and a thin book caught his eye.

"She will be wanting this back," he snickered at the thought of him knocking on her door, book in hand, her horrified expression as he let himself in…

He kneeled painfully next to it, flipping carelessly through the pages until he reached the one stained with a single drop of blood.

Momo.

Aizen ran his finger along the smeared blood and brought it to his mouth. The metallic taste reminded him of peaches.

Looking through the book one last time, he caught a name.

"Toshiro Hitsugaya, I would very much like to meet you."

As Momo settled herself into the driver's seat of her car, she hastily locked the doors and put the key in ignition. Momo went through the night in her head once more before she started the car and hurried home.

She was both pleasantly surprised and suspicious of Aizen's behavior. He had never been the type to fall into a trap of any kind, he was a careful planner, and his sadistic mind was cynical and clever.

Did he let her get away? Was this part of his scheme? What was he planning to devastate her this time?

But remembering the look of anger and shock as she slammed her fist into him, she knew that he had not been expecting her to fight back. But what about the car? It wasn't going fast enough to kill anyone, but it would cause some damage.

Momo was shaking as she drove back to her house.

The adrenaline had long since run out, and her hands that clutched the steering wheel so tightly they began to ache. Especially the one that had connected with his jaw.

Momo grinned, laughing and crying simultaneously as she played through the nights events in her mind. She kicked ass!

Helpless? Yeah right!

She loosened her grip slightly and examined the dark bruises around her knuckles, the same arm bore the mark his nails had made in her.

She sobered at the thought that when her sister died, she probably had similar bruises.

Onee san, you would be proud. Tonight, I wasn't paralyzed in fear, my blood didn't run cold, I didn't feel any remorse for him, not a shred of hope that he would change for me. He can't hurt me anymore.

When Momo pulled into the driveway of her house, she stopped a moment. Should she tell Hitsugaya about what happened tonight?

But then I'd have to tell him everything. And I don't know if I'm ready for that. But slowly Momo had been growing closer to her roommate, and she felt like she could trust him with her secrets.

She climbed out of the car and crept up the steps, her body sore from the stress of literally meeting her demon face to face and her legs wobbly from the mad sprint to safety.

Walking into the living room, Momo was surprised to be greeted with silence.

Carefully heading up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing, Momo assumed that Hitsugaya had gone to bed. But when she reached the top of the stairs and heard someone in her room, she wished suddenly that he wasn't.

Had Aizen followed her?

She eyed the door cautiously, and approached at a pace to rival that of a fat snail's. Her heart leapt into her throat and she decided all at once as she turned the doorknob and came face to face with…

A wide eyed, very guilty looking Toshiro.

Momo's eyes brimmed with tears of relief and she tackled him to the floor, her arms around his waist.

While on the floor, Momo felt his chest heave beneath her and he tried to explain to her what he was doing in her room.

She didn't care, only tightening her grip and crying into his chest as he sat up slowly. Hitsugaya's arms were hovering above her shoulders as he tried to gather his thoughts and understand why exactly it was that his roommate was in tears. And on top of him.

But when Hitsugaya put his hand on her shoulder to sit her up, she tensed and whimpered, burying her face and holding his shirt in fists. Curious, he carefully lifted the sleeve of her T shirt so that he could see a large red and slightly purple bruise in the shape of a man's hand.

Hitsugaya looked down at the girl in his arms, she sat on her knees between his outstretched legs, and from where he was he could see her hand all busted up and quickly realized that she was shaking violently.

Rage filled him at the thought of someone defiling something, someone so innocent and gentle. It's true that she had bit him, but he had no other reason to believe that she would cause anyone harm.

But instead of blurting out the questions tangling in his mind, he softened his gaze and pulled her up by the waist so that she was now leaning against him with his arms securely around her shoulders and waist.

Momo struggled to catch her breath, what happened to the strong girl who fought off her fears with dignity? I guess she left along with the adrenaline, as she was back to the terrified little girl that ran into her sisters arms each time Aizen raised his hand against her.

The pain of her old life came rushing back to her and she found solace in Toshiro's embrace.

And as she cried into his dampened shirt, and he moved his hand to the back of her neck, moving to kiss her forehead and whisper words of comfort, they shared a single thought.

Thank God it's Friday.

**FoOt NoTe**

Yes, Toushiro's father figure is a teacher. I didn't realize that id already put him in the story as that, but I guess I could role with this.

Sorry for the wait, in Pennsylvania for a week, and there was no internet connection where I was staying. I'm writing a I was journal for my week there called Party in Pennsylvania. It was so cold out! Dead of winter and some chick I never met wants to get married in 20 degrees of frigid cold and ice and snow! My laptop's keys are frozen!

Important! By the oddly unfitting and admittedly bad poem you read from this chapter, you can probably tell that I'm fresh out of poems that would fit Toushiro. So please, if you think you have one, or you would like to write one for this story, please send me a review to let me know, and send the poem in a privet massage. I will reply to let you know if I will be including your poem in any future chapters, and will credit the author in the footnote of the chapter I place it in.


	7. My Roommate the Bedwetter?

**ATTENTION: Calling all poets! I am in desperate need of poems that fit Toshiro. If you think you have one, or you would like to write one for this story, please send me a review to let me know, and send the poem in a privet massage. I will reply to let you know if I will be including your poem in any future chapters, and will credit the author in the footnote of the chapter I place it in. **

This chapter picks up where the last left off, but instead of focusing on their pain, this chapter shows how their relationship is growing and their affections for one another. Though these feelings have not yet hit the boiling point, in this chapter it becomes clear that they are going to end up together. Hurray for fluffy goodness!

_**Roommates: Chapter 7**_

"_**My Roommate, the Bedwetter?"**_

Toshiro sat at the end of Momo's bed, on the floor that is, rubbing his temples and thanking every god he knew for the night as it hid his troubled features.

He was just glad that he had gotten Hinamori to sleep before morning. He sighed deeply and glared at the clock. 2:00am.

Toshiro quickly calculated in his head: half an hour of holding her while she cried

10 minutes of raw anger at the bruises on her fragile body.

20 seconds of sheer panic as Momo held her breath.

And then a number of hours just sitting on her bed as she pulled out a fresh canvas and painted furiously, the colors melting into each other like tears on hot magma and steam in great plumes.

She was still far from finished when Toshiro gently grasped her from behind, his left hand around hers as it gripped the palet, his right around hers as it clutched the brush. She was still shaking, but she had calmed considerably at that point.

Toshiro stood from his spot on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, one hand gently resting on her right wrist stopping the brush from smearing the most depressing bluish purple he had ever seen onto the already gloomy painting in front of them.

She had almost instantly relaxed into him and allowed him to lead her to the bed.

He had sighed and turned to leave when a hand caught his sleeve.

"Stay…"

And so he did. But after a while, sitting on a wooden floor with your back against a lumpy bed frame began to take its toll on Toshiro.

He slowly got to his feet and inched his way towards the door, keeping a wary eye on the sleeping girl. Once at the door, he cracked it just enough for him to squeeze through and held his breath as he escaped.

But as Toshiro was tip toeing his way down the hall, a shrill cry resounded through the house and he bolted back into the room.

~With Momo~

Momo slept comfortably in her bed, she felt safe with him in the room. She could still hear his breathing and feel his warmth as she dozed off.

And for a time, her dreams were silent. Until she noticed that the only warmth in the room was hers, she was alone. In a split second visions of blood and tragedy clouded her mind, and she was shaken awake by her own cry.

Momo sat straight up in bed and thrust her arm out to her side, reaching for the light. But before her hand met the lamp, it met the cool glass of water resting on her bed side table next to it.

She jerked her hand back in surprise, and the glass with it.

Suddenly light flooded the room as the door burst open, Hitsugaya standing in its frame trying to assess the situation.

Momo was touched by the concern on his face as he looked her over. So he really does have a heart.

Well, that's what she thought until his eyes settled on her bed sheets and the empty glass at her feet. She cocked her head to the side as his lips twitched in a half smile, and his shoulders began to shake.

~Toshiro's point of view~

Toshiro burst through the room in a panic, was she hurt, was she being kidnapped?

He quickly scanned the room, his icy blue eyes darting around the room to find any cause for concern. As Toshiro looked Momo over for injuries, his eyes stopped on the dampened bed sheets that rested on her lap.

Damp…. She didn't….

Toshiro couldn't tear his eyes away from the spot. It sure looked like she did….

"Hitsugaya kun?" her tone was gentle but still unsteady.

"Hinamori… did you…?" Toshiro's question hung in the air as she processed.

Toshiro knew exactly the moment she understood his unspoken question, her eyes grew large and her face red.

"No! I didn't! I swear! I don't do that anymore! I just spilled…. I mean…. The water…. It was by the light…. And….." Momo was so flustered it was cute.

Toshiro turned on his heel to leave, but with a backward glance and a smirk he bid her goodnight.

"Sweet dreams, Bed-wetter Momo."

Needless to say, she was mortified.

_**FoOt NoTe**_

Wait! Before you go, if you have any suggestions for chapter titles (e.g. "_My Roommate_….") please send them to me in a review or PM me. I would love to hear your suggestions.

And for those of you newer readers, who are reading the completed version of this story many moons from now, the same goes for you. I may have already finished the story, but I would still love to hear your ideas (AND POETRY FOR TOSHIRO).

Thanks for reading my ANs, I feel special now =)

I'm so embarased. I made a mistake in this chapter, at the top i wrote "gripped (the thing that holds paint)" instead of "gripped the palet." Thank you to who corrected me. Im sorry it was nessesary. Please dont hesitate to correct me in a review if this happens again (which it probobly will, if you havnt noticed, my grammar sucks.) And why didnt anyone tell me i was spelling griped wrong! ack!

_**IN DESPERATE NEED OF EXPERIECED BETA**_


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